


Flashes

by Davechicken



Series: The Pilot and his Dark Knight [7]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Historical rape/abuse, M/M, PTSD, Rape Aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 11:08:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8487013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Sometimes Kylo remembers things.





	

**Author's Note:**

> CONTENT WARNING: This contains post-traumatic memories/coping/etc and as such could be upsetting and/or triggering so please read with caution and when in the right headspace. The ‘not being able to’ ask was about times when Kylo wasn’t able to sexually perform, and some of it is flashbacks/bad memories/past abuse.

Kylo isn’t quite sure what’s unsettled him today. Some days it makes sense (dates of the year can be problematic, people using the wrong name, people calling him a Jedi), but some days he just feels… ill at ease in his body.

And normally he just deals with it. Plasters a false smile on, quietly corrects them, removes himself from the situation. He powers on through the day, and few people notice the difference. Or, if they do, they say nothing.

There’ll be weeks when he doesn’t have episodes at all, and weeks when every few hours something is wrong. He’ll be making caf and he’ll bring it to his lips and remember how he’d not gotten used to the mask for months on end, and how he’d spilt caf over his lap more often than in his mouth before he remembered that eating and drinking were ritual and solitary, now.

He’ll hear the door squeak in a particular manner, and be jolted back to Star Destroyers. The sky will be a specific colour and there’ll be screams in his ear. There’ll be ‘no’ reason, and his dreams will be drenched in blood.

Today they’re curled up on the couch together, and there’s fingers on his neck, and kisses to his ear. Kylo feels okay with that, but when the other hand goes to his knee and slides up, he clamps his legs shut.

Poe doesn’t push that matter, his hand moving to his waist instead.

“You okay, babe?”  


“Yeah. Just. Sore,” he lies, not wanting to admit the truth.  


It’s not physical pain he’s remembering, it’s something much different. The hands on him are okay, but what happens next isn’t.

There’s just. Nothing between his legs. Nothing but sadness, anyway, so he slips from the couch to kneel between Poe’s thighs, pushing them apart.

“Babe… if you’re too sore…”  


“Fine,” he blurts out. “I’m fine, Poe.”  


Poe resists a little, and Kylo tries to push his face between them, even though the inside of his head is clamouring suddenly. He’s drowning in half-remembered dreams, whispers of thoughts he’s trying not to feel. Poe isn’t - Poe is wonderful. He doesn’t deserve these bad thoughts. He doesn’t. He should just… he’s fine. It’s okay, even as his hands shake on belt and buckle, and he calls out in distress when he’s pushed back.

“Ky… it’s alright. I’m not… you don’t need to.”  


“I do. I do. I want to.” He wants to make Poe happy. Poe does nothing but nice things for him, so he tries to push his mouth over his–  


_Hands in his hair and he remembers being pushed to his knees, forced to kneel, his body wretched and breaking. His eyes streaming, his hands bloodied. He remembers horrible thrills and he remembers screaming and he remembers wishing it would all stop and–_

“Kylo!”  


He realises he’s biting the inside of Poe’s thigh and falls back in shock, glad at least that his mouth wasn’t somewhere else. He crawls away on his ass, horrified, and Poe has every right to be disgusted with him, like he is. He doesn’t - he doesn’t–

“Kylo…” Poe drops to the floor, sitting there, hands raised like he’s a spooked animal. “Babe… babe it’s me. It’s me. You’re safe.”  


He’s not. He just nearly bit Poe’s dick off in horror.

“I j-just wanted to p-pppp-please you.”  


“I don’t need it, Ky. I don’t need it, if you’re not into it. It’s okay. What happened?”  


“NO NO NO NO NO NO NO.”   


“Kylo… Kylo… shhh. Okay? I’m sitting down. See? Sitting down. I’m not going to touch you. Okay? I’m here.”  


“I WAS SUPPOSED TO MAKE YOU LIKE ME.”  


“Babe, we’re freaking married. I like you already.”  


“That’s - it’s not - it’s…”  


“It’s okay. You know, if you don’t feel like it, it’s okay.”  


“No. No. If I was fine it wouldn’t matter.” If he was fine, there’d be no problems.  


Kylo scoots onto his ass, knees to his chest, huddled up tight. 

“Not everyone wants to every day, you know. Some days you’re tired, or just… not in the right frame of mind…”  


“But you wanted it,” Kylo blurts out before thinking.  


“Only if you did, too. Ky… sex is nice, but it’s not everything.”  


It isn’t, but Poe wants it, and it’s not Poe’s fault he doesn’t feel like it today. He should do. He shouldn’t feel the memories of _screamingvoicesbloodhurtpain_ behind his ears, or the electric shock of pains in his fingertips. He should be fine. He should. And if Poe realises how fucked up he is…

“It’s not you,” Kylo whispers.  


“I know that.”  


Poe looks too patient, and Kylo hates him for it, because he’s not good enough for that. He bites his lower lip hard, and shakes his head. “It’s _not you_.”

“I know,” Poe says, again. “But you don’t have to explain to me what it is. If you’re not feeling it, for whatever reason, just tap me on the knee three times, or something. I’ll know, and ask if cuddles are okay instead?”  


“But I have to–”  


“Ky, if I didn’t feel like it even because I was tired, would you hate me if I said no?”  


Reluctantly, he shakes his head.

“Same for me. No questions. You want to stop, we stop. You want to wait, we wait. You want to talk about it, we do. Otherwise I make you a hot chocolate and we talk about our next holo-series.”  


Why does he have to talk such sense? Inside, Kylo is falling apart. And Poe? Poe just… talks like… the world is fine. Like the inside of Kylo’s head isn’t screaming and death. But it is. And it shouldn’t be.

Poe nudges a foot out, touching his. That’s all. A single point of contact, but it helps; it doesn’t ask, or demand, or assume. Kylo allows it, and looks over to the man who is far too kind to him. “You’re not mad at me?”

“Never, babe. Just a bit upset you think I’d want to force you.”  


“It wasn’t forcing.”  


“Well… a bit upset you put yourself so far second, then. You think maybe you’d like a hug?”  


Kylo considers, then nods. He does. His skin feels cold, and he’s so far away. He wants to come home, but he’s not sure how. 

Poe pulls him gradually in, and they settle very slowly into touching, sitting on their asses in front of the couch. The warm, soft caresses are a million miles from where his head is, but he tries to follow them home.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.  


“I know. But it’s okay. You’re with me, now, baby. And I’m not going anywhere.”  


By degrees, the memories fade. Not completely, but enough. He’s still sorry, but at least he feels Poe isn’t angry. That’s a start.


End file.
